


Careless and Callous

by Aicnerys



Series: Warp, Mend, Warp, Repeat [1]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Don’t copy to another site, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-22 14:19:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17664254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aicnerys/pseuds/Aicnerys
Summary: Mairon is tired, and would like first to bathe and then to sleep.He would not like Melkor intruding on any of that, nor would he like Melkor's other plans.





	Careless and Callous

**Author's Note:**

> Of all the things that would get me to write fanfic once more after those times we do not speak of, it is this. I sigh at this, truly, I do.
> 
> But then I'm all like 'ahhh hurt dark lords angst non-con lemme just press all the buttons'
> 
> Truly, I indeed sigh at what I have done.

Mairon had been exhausted and in no mood for Melkor’s attention before he had entered the throne room at his lord’s bidding. He certainly hadn’t suddenly gained energy within it, and now, upon leaving the throne room, found himself even more tired than before. Although as one of the Maia, it was not often that he needed sleep, after weeks spent managing Utumno, down in the lowest levels forging whatever struck his fancy or was needed, or doing any other number of the countless things that needed to be done to keep Melkor’s fortress and plans for domination of Middle Earth running smoothly, he found himself wanting it. It was with the desire for rest in him that he had left Melkor’s throne room to adjourn to his chambers for a bath, an unusual indulgence for him, and to sleep.

He was just settling into his bath when he sensed his lord’s presence nearing his chambers. He’d not the time to dry himself properly, so the fabric of his robes clung unpleasantly to his skin and his hair hung in ugly, pale red-gold tangles.

Melkor requesting entry to his chambers was not on any schedule he’d had for the evening, and he’d liked it that way. Despite his reluctance to do so, however, Mairon found himself opening the door right as his lord approached it.

“Is there something you need, my lord?” He asked, schooling the weariness out of his voice best he could. A small, cruel smile played on Melkor’s face for but a moment, yet Mairon knew he’d seen it even as he wished to dismiss it as a trick played upon him by weary eyes.

“Yes.” Melkor said simply, stepping into Mairon’s chambers. Mairon’s chambers composed of three rooms: his work room, in which he had a long, large table to work upon, which was, as usual, covered in diagrams and drawings and notes and miscellaneous creations of his; his bathroom, where he cleaned himself as the need arose or as he felt like; and lastly, his own bedroom, where he slept when he needed to. Melkor was in the first room, his work room. He stared at Mairon with a frightful, burning gaze of molten silver. He had no pupils, and his eyes seemed to have flame burning behind them constantly.

“Pardon my impudence, my lord, but what is it that you desire of me that you could not have asked for in the throne room less than an hour ago?” Mairon said, exhaustion making it difficult to keep his tone smooth and sufficiently subservient. He was tired, his hair was still wet, and said water was chilling him, causing gooseflesh, a distinct annoyance.

“Continue what you were doing before.” Melkor said, slightly impatient. Mairon’s jaw almost dropped to the floor at that.

“No.” He said, taking a step back, intending to put distance between himself and Melkor. Melkor moved with him, causing Mairon to step back once more. Melkor used this to maneuver Mairon towards the bathroom.

“Order me about the battlefield, instruct me to make you countless weapons or shining trinkets, even have me kneel at your feet for an entire week, but leave these small indulgences alone, my lord.” Mairon said firmly, not caring of insolence any longer. Melkor laughed.

“Little one, would you have preferred me to fuck you forcefully into the ground in the throne room, for all to see?” Melkor said indulgently. “If you had wanted an audience, you would have only to ask.” At the thought, Mairon’s lip curled in disgust as a sickening dread set in his stomach.

“That is what I will do if you do not continue along as you were, little one.” Melkor said softly, a mockery of affection.

Giving up resistance, for Mairon considered having his lord watch him bathe and sleep to be the lesser of the two evils, he re-entered his bathroom and undressed, folding his robes neatly. The bathwater chilled him, having become unnaturally cold in his absence. Frowning, he was about to warm it when Melkor grabbed his wrist, the cool fabric of his glove a potent reminder that while Mairon was unclothed, Melkor was not.

“Leave it.” Melkor said smoothly. So Mairon lowered himself into his bath gingerly, shivering. Melkor laughed at that.

“Little one, do you truly dislike the cold so?” He asked mockingly. Mairon nodded. It was blatantly true. 

“Were I kind, I would allow you to warm the water. Unfortunately for you, I am not.” Melkor said thoughtfully. “Bathe yourself, little one.”

Gritting his teeth and doing his best to imagine Melkor was not perching on the sink like an overgrown crow, Mairon bathed as he normally would, cleaning his hair and his body meticulously, paying careful attention to his hair. It reached his waist, and the fine strands tangled easily when wet. He was having difficulty with getting the last thoughts when Melkor startled him by moving.

“Allow me.” Melkor said, voice betraying nothing of what the Vala could be planning. Mairon paused, the comb firmly entangled within his hair.

“Or do you want me to fuck you in the throne room for all to see?” Melkor said, voice a low growl. Mairon flinched at the thought and hastily gave the comb to Melkor, wrenching out some of his hair painfully in the process. Melkor frowned in distaste, picking the long strands out of the comb carefully. Mairon turned his back towards Melkor, pulling his knees into his chest and wrapping his arms around them in a futile attempt to feel warm.

Melkor’s hands were surprisingly gentle, and he was strangely free with his hands, caressing Mairon’s hair and head with every movement of the comb. Mairon leaned back into it. Never in all his countless centuries of living had he been touched in that manner, and that it was Melkor, the Vala he had betrayed his entire world for, touching him, only made it more enticing.

After what felt like an eternity to Mairon, Melkor stood, setting the comb on the sink. Mairon stood as well, stepping out of the bath and drying himself with a small flare of power. He moved to dress again, only for Melkor to stop him with a stare. Mairon took a deep breath and forced himself to a semblance of calm.

“Is that all you wished for, my lord?” Mairon asked. Melkor continued to regard him with that same flat stare.

“What else were you planning to do this evening?” Melkor asked, head tilted slightly in curiosity.

“Sleep, my lord.” Mairon said flatly. Melkor stepped aside, indicating Mairon was to pass. Mairon regarded him with wary eyes.

“Then sleep, little one.” Melkor said, causing a sense of suspicion for Mairon. But he remembered his master’s earlier threats and left the bathroom quickly.

Mairon entered his bedroom and sighed, closing his eyes, knowing that Melkor was still in his chambers. But he was tired, and not even a cold bath could keep him awake much longer. He slipped under the covers of his bed and let sleep take him.

~~~

He awoke to Melkor, unclothed, curled around him, a hand in Mairon’s hair and another draped over Mairon’s waist. Although sleep clung to his mind, fogging it, he shifted restlessly. Melkor pulled him back inwards, pressing Mairon against himself, burying his head in the crook of Mairon’s neck. Melkor murmured an enchantment, and Mairon was asleep once more.

~~~

The second time Mairon woke, he went from sleep to consciousness in mere moments. Melkor was tying him to his bed silently, calmly. Immediately, Mairon began to struggle, to use his power to break the restraints, yet his power would not come and Melkor was unfazed by Mairon’s struggles.

“Get off!” Mairon screamed, twisting and lurching in a desperate attempt to push Melkor off. He screamed when he felt Melkor grip his shoulder cruelly and twist, making Mairon’s arm dislocate.

It wasn’t the pain, but rather, the way it was delivered. It shocked Mairon. Never had his lord laid hands upon him in that manner. 

Mairon pulled his emotions within him, curled them tightly into a ball, and used them as fuel for his resolve, his endurance, his will.

It was with numb detachment that he felt Melkor enter him, fucking him hard and fast. Mairon may have been bleeding. He couldn’t find it in himself to care. Melkor came inside Mairon, and even then, with his lord’s seed oozing out of him, Mairon did not care. He simply lay there, tied to his own bed, limp and listless. Even when Melkor untied him, Mairon did not move. Melkor seemed disturbed, the dark lord’s presence strangely still.

“Mairon?” Melkor asked, seeming uncertain. Mairon didn’t respond.

“Acknowledge me, Mairon.” Melkor snapped. Mairon pulled the arm Melkor dislocated closer to his body.

He felt the mattress sink when Melkor sat upon it. Melkor placed a gentle hand upon his dislocated shoulder, making Mairon flinch. 

“Have I hurt you, little one?” Melkor asked softly.

“Please, leave.” Mairon responded, not even bothering to try and will strength into his voice. Melkor stood and left without another word.

~~~

Putting his shoulder back had been agony when he could rouse himself enough to actually do so. Then, he’d stepped back into his bathroom, drawn yet another bath, and started cleaning himself. The water was scalding hot, hot enough to permanently disfigure one of the pathetic elves that were kept as slaves in Utumno. Mairon found the heat reminiscent of the forge, and made a mental note to go there as often as he could. He wished to bury himself in things that absorbed all his focus, so as not to think about what Melkor had done.

**Author's Note:**

> There could be more. Maybe I will, maybe I won't. Depends. I do have other things I'm working on, and I dislike the thought of multiple WIP's at once, or else this would've been multi-chaptered.


End file.
